by Lexi Ward
Dean started up again. “But I know within us all is a desire. A burning passion to win this game, and to win this whole fucking season. And I believe that we can do that. And I know you’re thinking, of course you gotta say that, Dean. But I’m not saying this out of obligation. I am saying this because I am looking at the finest fucking baseball team Stablesmith has seen in years. We learn from the mistakes of our predecessors, we work harder to do better, work smarter and tougher, and we make those before us proud.” Dean paused once more to smile before continuing.
“I know you’re expecting some sort of ‘give 110%’ type speech from me, but I think I’ll leave that to Coach for the pre-game pep talk.” A few laughs greeted his words. “Instead, I urge you to make good memories. What kind of memory do we want in the future?” He raised his voice, hyping the team up. “Do we want a memory of us practicing so hard that the sport stopped being fun? Do we want memories of overtraining and hating practice sessions?” The team shook their heads. “That’s right, no! Do we want memories of crumbling under the pressure, of considering one defeat to be our downfall? No!” More shakings of heads, this time some ‘no’s from the others.
“What we want is memories of working together as a team. Memories of celebrating each win because we fucking deserve it, and doing our best in each loss because we’re fucking awesome like that. Because someday, we’re gonna be out in the world, working desk jobs, getting married and having families, maybe playing in the big leagues, and the details of this season are gonna fade to gray. What we’re gonna remember are the memories we made, and it’s what we’re gonna talk about when we bump into each other when we’re old as Coach.” Some laughs, Coach rolling his eyes and shaking his head in mock-anger.
Dean made himself louder so his voice was a shout. “So let’s do our best fucking practices, hit the best fucking home runs, make the best fucking catches, and own this fucking season!”
The whole team cheered and clapped, laughing and chanting Dean’s name.
“To the motherfuckin’ Stablesmith Scorpions!” Dean shouted, raising his glass.
His cries were echoed, and everyone clinked their glasses together and drank deeply. Dean took a giant swig from his glass.
“Quite a speech,” someone said.
Dean jumped and spun around, and the whole team fell completely silent. Standing right in front of their tables, in the flesh, was Ms. Khela Caldwell.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Khela left her office at 8pm, she’d decided to go for a drink at a bar and attempt to take someone home with her. It was a good idea, really, it was. Unfortunately she’d gone to the nearest bar, and it happened to inhabited by the Stablesmith Scorpions.
In hindsight, she could have walked out the moment she saw them and gone to another place or just called it a night. But Dean was standing up, and he was addressing the whole team in a commanding, almost awe-inspiring voice, and it had been impossible for her not to stop and be entranced. Dean spoke with such exhilarating confidence, with just the right amount of humor and cheesy pre-game clichés mixed in with his uniquely powerful ideas. It almost excited her.
She should have walked away after the speech was over, but there Dean was, downing his beer like a champ, and the rest of the team was following him with something akin to respect. There was something magnetic about him and she felt the need to approach him and acknowledge him.
And that was how she wound up here, standing in front of the team as they stared at her with their jaws hanging open, Dean having spun around to face her. He looked as surprised as she felt at her actions.
“Ms. Caldwell!” he exclaimed.
His words were echoed by the rest of the Scorpions. “Ms. Caldwell! You came after all!” was the general consensus, and they seemed so happy that Khela decided telling them the truth would only be cruel.
“A very inspiring speech, Mr. Williams,” Khela said genially.
Dean smirked. “You’re too kind, Ms. Caldwell.”
Khela wanted to say more, but a small group of people in the bar who’d recognized Dean and the rest of the Scorpions had approached and Dean politely turned his attention to them.
“Nice of you to come down here,” Coach Dennison said, appearing suddenly next to Khela.
“It wasn’t intentional,” Khela replied. “I just wanted a drink.”
“The boys will appreciate it if you stick around,” he said.
Khela shrugged. Her eyes were following Dean, who had just said something to a group of girls who were now giggling at whatever he’d said.
Coach Dennison noticed where her gaze fell. “Kid’s got game,” he laughed. “More than I had in my time.”
“He hasn’t got game, he’s just mildly famous,” Khela replied. “Without that, who knows what he’d be?”
Coach Dennison shook his head. “Nah. He’s the only one of these kids who doesn’t throw himself at the ladies. He knows they want him, but he takes his time, he chooses wisely. He isn’t easy, not like these other boys.” He gestured at some of the other Scorpions, who were openly flirting with any girls who gave them attention.
Khela wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Those boys look at girls like they’re dogs and the girls are bones.”
“Yup,” Coach Dennison agreed.
Khela was back to watching Dean again. He was still speaking to the group of girls, and you could tell he was attracted to some of them, but he wasn’t looking at them like they were pieces of meat. There was some respect there, and it made him all the more desirable.
“Come on, grab yourself a beer,” Coach Dennison said, motioning to the table. “Have a seat, boys will love ya.”
Oh, what the heck. She’d already come this far. Khela sat herself down on one of the chairs around the tables they’d been using and pulled a glass of beer towards her. Maybe someone had already drank from it. She didn’t care.
A few minutes later, and some of the players were trying to talk to her. She waved them off and told them to focus on the girls they were entertaining. They obliged willingly, knowing that her presence was already too good to be true. Conversation would be too much.
The chair next to her was pulled out, and Dean plonked himself down into it.
“Thank you for staying, Ms. Caldwell,” Dean said.
Khela shook her head. “Please don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t come here to see the team.”
“I know,” Dean said. “That’s why I thanked you for staying, not coming.”
Khela laughed. The boy was clever. Dean looked at her, startled.
“What?” she asked.
“I’ve never heard you laugh,” Dean noted.
“No,” Khela agreed. She wasn’t someone with the habit of laughing often.
“I’ve got a mission now,” Dean said. “To make you laugh more, so I can hear it again.”
Khela felt heat rising to her cheeks, but she knew Dean was just flirting harmlessly, the way he did with girls who showed him attention. Was this inappropriate? She didn’t know. “Smooth, Mr. Williams, but let’s not forget our places,” she cautioned him.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. Caldwell.” Dean raised his glass to her. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Khela replied, but she didn’t drink. Drinking with Dean felt too intimate, and this situation was already out-of-hand enough. Maybe it was time to take her leave.
The Scorpions looked set to party the night away, and Khela wasn’t here for that kind of nonsense.
“I’m afraid I have to get going,” she said, standing up. The team noticed but said nothing. Perhaps they were already shocked enough by her arrival, and her being there was a miracle enough.
“The night is young,” Dean said.
“And I am getting old,” Khela replied. He looked so hopeful that she would stay behind that she knew he was going to cause her trouble if she stayed any longer. A part of her wanted him badly, and had wanted him since she first saw him, but most parts of her knew that was a bad idea. “Excuse
me.”
She hurried out before anyone could stop her.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Dean had his eye on someone, he did everything he could – short of breaking the law or being horribly disrespectful – to get them.
Tonight, he wanted Ms. Caldwell. Maybe for longer than tonight. And he knew she wanted him too. He’d seen the way she looked at him, noticed the delicate movements of her body that betrayed her – her fidgeting as he came closer, the dilation of her pupils, her hurried escape. If both of them wanted it, he wasn’t going to let it slip by.
Dean stood up and rushed out of the bar after Ms. Caldwell. Luckily, she hadn’t gotten very far. She was just getting into her car.
“Ms. Caldwell,” he called.
She stopped, paused, turned to look at him. “What is it, Mr. Williams? I’m in a hurry.”
“I –” Dean stopped. He needed to play his cards right. “I just wanted to thank you, really, for showing the team you care. Even if you were just pretending.”
Ms. Caldwell sighed, climbed out of her car, and closed the door with a snap. “I’m not pretending to care,” she said. “I do care, Mr. Williams.”
Dean found this to be a very strange statement, and his previous idea of playing his cards right suddenly flew out the window. “No offense, Ms. Caldwell, but you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
This seemed to anger her, but only for a second before she deflated again. “I know,” she admitted. “But believe me; I want the best for the team. What I’m doing, the way I handle things – it’s all for the best.”
“Again, I mean this with respect, Ms. Caldwell,” Dean said shrewdly, “But you’re new to the team. I’ve known my team for the past four years. I think maybe we should talk about what really is the best, find some middle ground.”
“Don’t be insolent,” Ms. Caldwell warned. “I’ve been in this business for years, and I had to fight ignorance, racism, and misogyny to land this job. I’ve been through lots, and I had to be twice as good as everyone else to get to where I am today, so I know what I’m doing.”
“I would never question that,” Dean said quickly. He recognized that he was threatening an active volcano, but maybe they could get somewhere. This was more than Ms. Caldwell had ever spoken about herself. “I’d just want lines of communication to be open.”
Ms. Caldwell walked forwards until she was directly in front of him. Despite being more than a decade older than him, she was shorter by a full head. “Don’t tell me how to do my job, Mr. Williams,” she said coldly. “Let’s remember that going to bars isn’t part of my job description, and neither are plenty of the things you suggest. I’m supposed to oversee Coach Dennison and make sure the team is in good shape. I have done nothing less so far.”
“But we need more,” Dean argued. “The Scorpions love ya, Ms. Caldwell. They want to make you proud, but they can’t do that if you’re so detached from us.”
“This detachment is for your own good!” Ms. Caldwell shouted.
Dean realized how close they were. Her body and his were separated be a mere inch of space. How had they come to be like this? He could almost feel her body’s warmth, and it was sending his blood rushing southwards.
“In all due respect, Ms. Caldwell,” Dean said, his voice turning husky. “You don’t seem very detached to me.”
Ms. Caldwell faltered. For a split second, Dean saw surprise and vulnerability. Then she slipped her stoic mask back on. “That’s very funny, Mr. Williams, but very inappropriate.”
Her voice had become soft and sultry, perhaps unintentionally, and Dean felt the remainder of his self-control whittle down to a sliver. Using all his effort not to do anything stupid, Dean managed to reign himself in. “How inappropriate am I allowed to be, Ms. Caldwell?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
“Oh, fuck this,” Ms. Caldwell said, and she tiptoed and pressed her lips against Dean’s.
Dean gasped, shocked by her sudden assault, and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Kicking his brain back into gear, Dean responded eagerly, moving his lips against her and wrapping an arm around her waist. But before he could get too into it, she’d pulled away. Dean felt a slight twinge at the loss.
“Mr. Williams, I am so, so sorry,” Ms. Caldwell said hastily. “I don’t know what came over me.” She began to try to pull free from his grasp. “I’ve had too much to drink –”
“You had half a glass of beer,” Dean retorted.
Ms. Caldwell shook her head. Her lipstick was slightly smudged and she looked disheveled and shocked. She was beautiful. “I know, I sincerely apologize, I –”
Dean shut her up quickly by pulling her back towards him by her waist and crushing his lips to hers. She protested, voice muffled, for all of one second before going weak in his arms, a moan escaping her mouth and entering Dean’s.
“Dean,” she whispered, her voice the epitome of sexy. Dean had never heard his first name used by her before. He wanted to hear it again.
She pressed herself against him then, and there was no way she couldn’t feel the hardness pressing against her waist, and Dean knew there was no going back from this point.
CHAPTER SIX
Khela didn’t know what had come over her. Things had happened so fast. One second she was furious with Dean for being unreasonable and bothering her and the next second heat was coursing through her body so quickly that she couldn’t breathe. They’d gone from standing still and arguing to making out in three seconds flat.
She’d tried to distance herself from him the first time they kissed, but he was irresistible. Every shift of his body, every hot breath he exhaled, every subtle brush of their skin – it all invaded her senses in a rush. All she wanted to do was touch him. Taste him. Breathe him in.
And now they were in the back seat of her car, the doors shut and the AC blasting cold air, and he was on top of her, his hand everywhere all over all at once, their lips connected in a desperate dance. One of Dean’s hands brushed against her neck, and sparks shot through her spine. Khela’s main desire was to strip herself of her professional wear and have Dean stripped of his clothes; she wanted to feel his hard, naked body pressed against him. Khela didn’t know how long they’d wanted each other, but it was all coming to a head now.
One of them made a strangled, desperate noise – she wasn’t sure who – and Dean’s tongue slipped between her lips, meeting her own and tangling with it in an experienced fashion that told Khela he’d had plenty of practice before. The idea turned her on further; it was something that they both had in common. They were practically devouring each other. It was everything that Khela so desperately needed.
Dean’s right hand trailed down her torso, sliding over the thick fabric of her skirt, and then pulling up her leg to hook around his waist, spreading her as much as her pencil skirt would allow. He grasped at the fabric and pulled it upwards, and then his fingers were sliding over the inside of her thighs. Fire erupted over Khela’s skin.
Khela whimpered as Dean’s hands pulled aside her underwear and a finger found her wet core, already dripping and ready and craving his touch. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he broke apart from their kiss, his lips then latching onto her neck. Her skirt rose to her waist, and she lifted her hips to allow Dean to push it upwards evenly. She shivered as the cold air kissed her skin, and again when his fingers played with her, finding her clit and rubbing gently. He slipped a finger into her and Khela moaned and bucked her hips. Dean’s free hand reached to unbutton her blouse, exposing her breasts to him as she continued to move against his hand. Luckily she’d worn a bra with the clasp in front, as Dean was able to undo it easily and push it aside before his mouth descended onto one of her nipples.
The combination of Dean’s practiced fingers rubbing expertly within her and the sensation of his tongue and teeth worrying at her nipple made Khela begin to gasp and moan in time with each movement. Unable to keep herself silent, she whispered Dean’s name huskily.
&
nbsp; Dean groaned in response and doubled the speed of his fingers. Khela mewled, back arching, the pleasure that had bit sitting warm in her stomach suddenly lurching forwards and overcoming her body in a strong tornado. She hadn’t even thought she was ready to come yet, but she was crying out, eyes closed and shudders wracking her body as she reached her peak.
Dean pulled her up, as she came, divesting her of her jacket, her blouse, and her bra before she could so much as catch her breath. He was just tugging off her panties as she came down from her high.
“It’s unfair,” she whined.
Dean stopped and looked up at her. “What is?”